The MacManus That Live Together
by MacDixon Love
Summary: /MurphConn/ What happens when two twin brothers have certain very unbrotherly feelings for one another thinking that the other will never reciprocate? Can this end well?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Holy crap I can't believe I actually psyched myself up to type this out! I really hope you guys like this.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Boondock Saints and make no profit other than all the brother love feels.**

**Warning: Language, sexual situations, man on man, twincest. It sounds really bad from the warning but it's actually sort of sweet!**

The MacManus That Live Together….

Chapter One, Connor's Disgust and a Wounded Man.

Why was God so fucking cruel? How could he taunt me like this? Why would he make something so incredibly beautiful and irresistible so wrong to have? Why did Murphy of all people have to be born my brother? Why did He make my brother- my fuckin' _brother_- the only person I could ever love like this?

He is perfect. He is just so _perfect. _And I know it's wrong, I know that it is sick, disgusting and vile, but I only want to love him. Love him the way no man should love his brother. It wasn't just a sibling's love I feel to Murphy MacManus, my twin- though there was that too- I love him in a much different way.

I love him. I know him- better than myself. I need him. I'm scared. I am terrified. I'm _terrified_.

Murphy doesn't know how I feel and it hurts. We've never kept things from each other, ever. There was never a need to hide things from one another. What I did, Murphy did. What Murphy did, I did. And my sweet, loving, trusting brother hadn't a clue of the sick thoughts seeping through my brain, skull, to my very bones. Murphy was the innocent here, per usual. My brother was his own man, did things for himself, even though there was hardly ever a need for "self" when it came to us, but he'll always do as I say. He'll always trust me to make the commands and follow them through. Murphy trusts me, and I feel like I'm betraying that. That's the worst part.

Innocent, adorable Murph is stuck with a queer, perverse, and seemingly incestuous brother.

I jam my fists against my pounding eyes hoping the blunt pain will rid my acidic mind of its rancid secrets, to shut it all out. But the thoughts don't stop. It most certainly doesn't help that Murphy is taking a long, steaming shower not ten feet from me. His pale, perfect skin is just teasing me, making me die a bit more inside.

Our dingy, little flat is only one room, no separation for privacy in the shower or bathroom area. "Why need one?" Murphy had said when I suggested we buy a partition. "It isn't like we've never seen each other naked." He had teased and jabbed me in the side once we got the flat. We had seen each other naked more times than countable. We were twins, did everything together, used to bathe together in hopes we'd both get hot water, and to Murphy it wall innocent brotherly affections. To me, it was the closest I'd ever be to my sinful desires.

I can't say when my need for Murphy turned from a twin's love to being in love with my twin. Maybe it had always been the latter, I couldn't say, but it certainly had been this way for a long, long time. The MacManus brothers: erratic, goofy, touch happy. That's who we are, had always been. But I needed something more.

Once, when we were little, maybe four, Murphy took my hand and smiled his cherubic baby smile. I remember his bright blue eyes so much like mine, shine brightly as he said the most wonderful thing I can ever remember hearing, "Conn," he had said, "one day, I'm gonna marry ye." I think I punched him for that, but I had happily agreed, my hand not leaving his until Ma separated us for being unbrotherly.

Ma had somehow known about my feelings towards my brother. She'd always watched extra closely whenever we were near for signs of anything wrong about our relationship. Lingering hugs, inappropriate kisses, or too much contact. I found ways around her watchful eyes as I grew older, needing some form of contact with the man I love, any was better than none. Hell, half our fights are just excuses for me to touch him, get my fix. I was a true addict, I couldn't deny. I was hooked on the flawless drug of Murphy MacManus.

"Oi, space cadet," A large hand waved in front of my face, startling me out of my pool of self loathing and memories, how's it look up dere?" my twin asked with a chuckle as his still dripping, naked form fell on the mattress next to me. Why did he have to be so unconsciously cruel?

"Hah, sorry Murph," I manage to choke out, doing my best not to let my gaze linger too long on that pristine alabaster. I fail, of course.

"Like what ya see?" he smirks and wiggles his hips back and forth so is manhood flops around with thick sounding smacks. Jesus, he was trying to give me a heart attack- or hardon? My innocent, albeit foulmouthed twin lay there in front of God and everyone asking the one fucking question I just can't lie about. Something in me must snaps. That poor dam I had worked so hard to build, brick by pained brick, just springs a leak. And I just can't fix it.

"Yeah, Murph, I do." holy shit, I did not just say that, no way possible, I wouldn't- couldn't - fuck up that bad. But I had said it, I knew it and based on his beautiful wide eyes and delicately arched eyebrows so did he. I'm fucked. I'm so fucked. I'm so impossibly fucked.

"Conn don't fuck with me." The teasing left his voice, his expression going sour with what had to be disgust, but anger? Anger was there too. Why was he angry? Did he finally discover me? Uncover all my little- huge- secrets? One little statement had been my undoing, now I would lose everything. Oh, I know I can fix it, chuckle and make to jab at him. All would be forgiven, forgotten, and written off. But I can't. I can't move to turn it into a game. For once the talkative twin is at a loss of words.

My body has other plans though. He's just so close, so warm, so Murphy. My Murphy. I close the meager remaining space between us, breathing shallowly, much like my twin. His eyes are expectant, confused, but there was a certain anticipation there, and the fact the hasn't moved away drives me on. I do what I have been holding back for nearly twenty years. Holding back for fear of God, Hell, and a life of sin. But mostly I had held back for fear of losing Murphy, losing my life.

Without my Murphy I wasn't anything, I would just shrivel and die, crawl into some alley way being utterly homeless, because Murphy was my home. He was the only reason I could stand to leave Ireland.

No where was home if Murphy wasn't by my side. Sometimes I find myself wishing we had been born conjoined so I'd never be away from him. I was so afraid that Murphy would hate me for feeling as I did, for loving him in a way I shouldn't, for being nasty.

I can't lose my Murphy. Not my Murph. But I need to be closer, I need to act out the one activity we haven't experienced together. So with my mind somersaulting over itself, I cushion my lips against my twins, waiting for my world to explode.

But it doesn't.


	2. Murphy's Trust and a Wicked Plan

**A/N: I'm at home being sick. So guess I'll be updating now. My misery will gladly be your gain. By the way, have I ever mentioned that I'm very bad at typing? ~MacDixy**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Boondock Saints or any related hullabaloo **

**Warning: dirty language, sexual stuffs, silly twincesty boys.**

The MacManus That Live Together…

Chapter Two, Murphy's Trust and a Wicked Plan.

I really wish my brother would stop moping, it gets on my nerves. Don't get me wrong I love my other half through and through to the grave. Hell, I'd asked Conn to marry me one time, not that he would remember. We'd only been toddlers but I meant it then and I would mean it now. If only he felt the same way as me, I'd marry him in a heart beat. Of course we couldn't get married, we were both men, and brothers- twins- at that.

It was the thought that counted, always had been. Like, in my high school ceramics class when I had made us a pair of rings out of cheap clay and had given him one. I remember how hard I worked on those rings, molding the resistant yet pliable material around my artistic fingers. I remembered carving the tiny knots into their sides, making the rings nearly identical, the knots symbolizing our unbreakable bond.

I remember exactly how his face looked when I blushingly handed him the ring and mumbled some shite about a brothers bond. He couldn't believe that I'd made something so delicate without crushing it. He had been amazed, his baby blues eyes so bright with love and hope. Really all I wanted to do was get down on my knee and slide the little circle home properly.

To me the rings claimed him as mine and I as his. But to my Connor they only symbolized out twin-hood and power as a team. I didn't like pretending that the rings were between two brothers and not something more but it was made easier when he'd worn the white clay circle every day for years until it crumbled from the abuse, just as mine had.

We had been nearly eighteen when his ring broke into tiny pieces. He didn't seem to care that he was a grown man, he came home blubbering like a child, holding the little bits of my creation in his hand. In his mind I guess it seemed like he'd broken our relationship. He'd run sobbing to me apologizing in several languages. That night I had held him close and let him cry into my chest as I rubbed his back and mused his hair. I couldn't quite remember ever seeing him so pained. I liked being able to comfort him when he was usually the one soothing my mood flares. It felt cruel to enjoy holding his crying form to me and liking it.

To stop his crying when I couldn't handle it anymore I'd promised that I'd get new ones, make them, buy them, anything, I just didn't want to see him cry anymore. So that bittersweet long forgotten minute was over along with Connor's frightened sobs and clinging fingers. That night we had learned that we didn't need mere inanimate objects to maintain our link.

Seeing my brother cry like that had been awful. Being the one to comfort him while he cried had been wonderful. I had once long ago felt disgust towards the wrongness of my feelings toward my twin, but now all I could be was happy. I had to be the luckiest man in the world to be born with this saint at nearly the same time. I'd had the privilege to grow up with him go through changes with him, comfort and be comforted by him.

Connor was my everything, as essential to my life as the food I eat or the air I breath.

My one sadness in life though came from the man that made me happiest. He didn't feel like I did, he wouldn't understand. My brother was so strong in him conventions and so very religious. I'd follow Conn into the blazes of Hell since wherever he went was always a little bit of Heaven, but if my brother ever tried to convince me that what we felt wasn't right, I would punch him in his face. Sure in theory loving my twin brother is icky, vile, whatever, but Connor was my deity, and I was a bit of a zealot. It was selfish, crude, and wrong, but I wanted what I wasn't supposed to have and as he sat there just moping I decided I would have it.

I could risk it all, couldn't I? I couldn't just do it outright, molest the poor, innocent, gorgeous man smoking broodishly at the table. I'd have to be sneaky and weasel my way in. I knew this would sadly be a one time thing, I didn't know how far I was willing to go, but I desperately craved getting there. As long as some part of him were inside me, I'd be happy. And thus started my grand, evil plan: seduce my innocent twin.

I knew I'd have to get him drunk that was easy enough but no way this would work with him being sober. Maybe I'd get him to drink so much he wouldn't remember what happened the next morning that would make the exploration of waking up cuddling much easier. If he thought we did anything more than cuddle I'd blame it all on the booze. I was the younger twin after all - though I'd never admit to it- little brothers were meant to make mistakes and break things, Connor would forgive me, surely a mistake we had drunkenly made together.

The plan sounded good to me, and I was fairly certain Connor would go for whatever sex thing I did to him. He hadn't gotten much action lately, for reasons unknown to me, girls were always clinging to my charming brother but recently he'd been refusing to go home with any. Fine by me since every second he spent away from me stung like a bitch. A few days ago my confusion on the subject came back and I asked him about it. At first he'd brushed me off, but I managed to get him to admit to, "meaningless sex is just fuckin' cold," and that was that. Which gave me an excuse for this lovely little plan of mine.

My Connor didn't want meaningless sex, but sex with me held all the meaning in the world, so really wasn't I doing charity? We'd both get laid after a long, long dry spell and my twin would get out of this funk. Maybe the warmth of Hell's fire was what my Conn desired. Sexual frustration was a bitch, after all.

I realized our strange role reversal just then and laughed. Connor was the one with the crazy elaborate movie style plans, not me. I was the one usually brooding and staring at nothing. In a time of crisis our role reversal was necessary, but I'd be damn happy when I can hear one of those dumb plans of his again. After all, brooding is my job, remember that Connor.


	3. If At First You Don't Succeed

**A/N: Yo guys, mark it in the calendar, MacDixy is updating things! Yay! Please don't hold your applause. It is a tiny one…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Boondock Saints or make profit or whatever I'm supposed to say here. **

**Warning: dirty language, sexual stuffs, twincest**

The MacManus That Live Together…

Chapter Three, If at First You Don't Succeed, Try, Cry, and Buy (some booze).

Yesterday my Murphy began to act exceptionally strange. Well stranger than usual, him being the artistic twin and all. But this was different from the times he'd go into an artistic trance and forget to eat, or simply stare at a wall. Murphy was just too damn jovial.

I had gone to McGinty's in an attempt to drown a directly painful wave of lust for Murphy after I'd given his aching shoulders a message. I didn't have enough money just then to drown in the proper amount of pints to unwind so I peeled away from the stool and made the chilly trek back to the loft. To Murphy.

It wasn't like I had gone to McGinty's to forget my perverse love for my brother-hell no, that was stupid, and impossible- I just didn't want to do anything stupid or outright rape the poor bastard. Quench two types of thirst at once. Kill two birds with one stone, if you will. I was Irish after all, so my thirst for booze was never quite filled, but that other thirst had never come close to being sated, probably never would be if I was being realistic. I hadn't had sex in close to six months. A painfully long time, but its presence was just as lonely as its absence, so I gave it up.

Don't get me wrong, I've been known as a bit of a slut, but sex was just that. Sex. Just a motion I went through like combing my hair or tying my shoes. Didn't think much about it, just went through the motions with some strange new woman, my brothers name in my throat. Because like everything I did Murphy was right there with me, in my head. When I did think during sex it was just of Murphy. How I imagined he'd feel around me, or how he'd sound. Murph was the only person that could get me over the edge, ever since we had discovered how good a tug could be. Murphy had debuted and starred in every single one of my wet dreams. I just couldn't cum if it wasn't for Murphy. Isn't that horribly, sadistically sweet? So, I'd fuck the girl, only seeing Murph, and run back home before my separation anxiety could get any worse.

I had returned to the flat from my failed drowning attempt to be greeted by an adorable, shirtless Murphy. My twin had always been the less serious, playful boy I loved so dearly, emotional, but so strong. I was set for a loop when he bounded over to me like a happy puppy , yanked off my p-coat and slammed the door behind me.

"Uh, hello..?" as much as I loved it, why was he smiling like that? The mischievous grin that came before a trip to the principals office or the A&E (E.R.) Wolfish and toothy.

"Hello, yourself." he sang, "Brother, ye smell like ye fell into an entire vat of Guiness. Let me help ye." Before I could figure out what was going on through my hazy mind, my shirt had already joined the discarded coat on the floor, his fingers working deftly at my belt. Then I was just standing there in my boxers. The fuck?

We took care of one another when we were drunk, sure, but usually it didn't have such an inclination as Murphy seemed to have. I wouldn't question it though. I loved when my brother cared for me like we'd been born to do, we always had our other half's back. One of us just wanted said back in a different way.

Murphy, already I an identical state of undress, ushered me over to a bed- his bed- and pushed me onto it. In my mostly inebriated state I was sent ass over tea kettle into the old mattress, feet flying and nearly connecting with my handsome brother's jaw. He lithely dodged it, playfully gripping and setting my lost limb on his shoulder and moving to kneel over me on the bed.

"Murph, 'm too fuckin tired tah horseplay," I complained, him moving my legs. My thigh flush against his had created unexpected friction. My breathing hitched and I prayed he hadn't noticed. His grin said otherwise.

"Just want to cuddle, dear brother." Murphy whined indignatly positioning himself between my legs at an oh-so-precious angle that I feared was sure to bring trouble. Before I could shift though, Murphy had decided on more contact, groin to groin, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, and face to face. My twin smirked with what seemed like pride, mentioning something about our hearts beating in the same rhythm, but I was too distracted with thinking about cold showers to give it much thought. I couldn't allow my aching dick to ruin my perfect relationship with my brother, how could that possibly be okay? It couldn't.

Murphy must have been out to kill me, I had no explanation as next his head sank to my shoulder and his lips plant firmly against a pulsing vein there. I already was sporting a semi with Murphy's breath ghosting across my sensitive throat and his teeth and tongue caressing, toying, and nipping at my flesh I would certainly be found out.

Though he didn't smell of alcohol my twin had to be drunk , that was all I could explain it with. He had a tendency of getting sloppy and kissing anyone or anything in sight, myself not excluded. This was just another bought of Murphy's classic horny drunk antics, so with a sigh I gripped his face between my palms raised his face to mine and planted our lips together in a quick chaste kiss. I quickly rolled away from him though, my back to his chest, his leg and arm slung over me. I hadn't been so comfortable since the last time this had happened.

My brother's sigh ruffled my short hair as I snuggled back into him. I drifted into a wonderful sleep, the strange sensation of scruffle on scruffle still tingling my skin and the taste of Murphy still on my lips.

XOXOXO

It's always awkward waking up with an erection hard as brick. It's a bit more awkward when you're in your brother's bed and you both wake up at the same time to see your harder than steel manhood. I just couldn't help the blush that created my every inch of skin as Murphy chuckled and nudged me wit his shoulder awkwardly. I wanted to die, to be swallowed up by the ground and never come back, until I noticed my dearest twin brother, sporting a similar excitement. I said as much too and laughed rather cruelly as he blushed twice as bright as me and squirmed around to conceal his matching boner.

"Twins" mumbled deftly, near tragedy averted thanks to my other half's bumbling similarities, "Just can't resist doin' the same thing." I smiled meekly rummaging about the messy flat for almost clean jeans and a band t-shit that of course belonged to Murphy. The lack of nicotine in his brain seemed to be affecting his functions as Murph just sat there staring at his lap.

Thank God he didn't feel like talking.


End file.
